Saturday, January 29, 2011

Doo Doo Is Only A Food Group For Dogs

Remember a while back when I mentioned trying to hold up my post-Christmas-goodie butt during a yoga class? I wasn’t joking about that. During the holidays my body got used to eating cookies and desserts covered in whipped cream and candies and now it not only expects them, it grumbles and rumbles for them. But I’m putting a stop to that. I’m putting on the brakes even if it means I won’t be able to hear Sophie’s purring over my stomach growling. That means I’m trying not to eat between meals (other than a handful of raisins and raw almonds in the morning at work because sometime between 10 and 11 a.m. each morning I know if I don’t eat something I’ll have small key-shaped indentations in my forehead) and (sigh) I have given up my nightly glass of full bodied, fragrant, dry red wine. I’ve given it up during the work week anyway. Well, I’ve given it up during the work week except for Friday which is technically the weekend. Okay, I'm not giving it up on Sunday either. Sunday doesn’t count because that’s the weekend too. I guess if you want to be persnickety, I’ve given up my evening glass of oh so mellow, soothing red wine only Monday through Thursday.

In addition to no snacks and no less wine I’m trying to limit myself to one serving of whatever food Dean has prepared for our evening meal. Did you know I don’t have to cook any of our evening meals OR our weekend breakfasts? That means I also don’t have to plan the meals or shop for the food. All I have to do is eat what is prepared and then clean up what was used to prepare it. Cleaning up after Dean has been cooking is no small task but it’s still better than cooking it myself. It’s the best deal I’ve negotiated in the 38 years we’ve been married. It’s even better than the excellent deal I negotiated with him this winter which is this: if there is any snow or even one little frost crystal on my car windows on a work morning, he starts my car, warms it up and scrapes the windows. Let me tell you, some mornings there is a LOT of scraping

It wasn’t even hard to talk him into it. I think he just didn’t want to clean the garage so I could park there.

At first blush you might think I got the raw end of the parking deal but you’d be wrong. If I parked in the garage I would have to get into a cold car in the morning and when I came home at night, before I could pull into the garage, I would have to get out of a nice warm car, kick off all the loose snow from the wheel wells and brush off any snow on the car because “there will be no melting snow in our garage.” Know what that means? It means on snowy days I’d be standing in the driveway, kicking my car, and trying to brush off snow from one side and then running back to the other side to brush it off before it accumulated again on the side I just brushed off. I have a dent in the toe of one of my boots from kicking snow. It’s not fun. Because of this awesome deal I effortlessly negotiated, I can walk outside, get in a car all warmed up with scraped windows and when I come home at night I turn off the car, lock the doors and go in the house.

Anyway, to get back to my original point, I am trying to cut back on my food intake. That means I’m pretty hungry when dinner time rolls around. Especially if I’ve just gotten home from pilates or hot yoga. I’m not super picky about what I eat as long as it isn’t fish or asparagus or squash or raw broccoli or any kind of cauliflower or avocado or eggplant or tomatoes or olives or raw onions or mustard or ginger. So when I describe the dinner that was recently placed in front of me I do not want you to think I am whining or complaining or hard to please. I live with a cook and a valet. It doesn’t get better than that. But on this recent night, I had just come home from the gym and I was really hungry. I sat down at the table to a skillet containing a sauce-like substance that was approximately the color and consistency of baby poop that had been mixed with oh, I don’t know, maybe rotten yellow squash and a dab of green enchilada sauce. Floating in this thickened liquid were some French cut green beans and small white tofu-looking chunks that turned out to be boiled chicken. This concoction was not going to win any culinary presentation prizes but I was hungry so I wasn't complaining.  I was just happy I didn't have to do the cooking.

Next to the skillet of goo there was a bowl of brown rice with a few raisins and sliced almonds mixed in. I scooped some rice onto my plate and added some of the baby poop mixture. I loaded up my fork but as I was about to take the first bite my stomach clenched, my nose wrinkled up and my mouth refused to open. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that my reaction was not a polite, “honey, what spices* did you use in this interesting concoction?”  No, what came out of my mouth (when I took the fork away and it would open again) was “ewwwwww … what is in this?! Ewwwwww. It stinks! Gross.” I think I might have even made some gagging noises. It smelled like vomit. I’m sorry but it’s true. It looked like a mixture of baby poop, rotten squash and green enchilada sauce and it smelled like vomit. I forced myself to take one bite but the sad truth is it tasted like a combination of baby poop and vomit. Not that I’ve eaten that specific combination of ingredients but if I ever did, I think it would taste like this sauce.

I was informed by my cook that I did not have to eat it. I could eat the leftover boiled chicken in the fridge. And there were apples. Dean ate not one, but two servings and then put some in a container for lunch the next day but I suspect he was just being stubborn and didn’t want to admit he had created a biohazard. As for me, I just figured he was trying to help me in my “shrink the butt” effort. I’m telling you, nothing gets rid of hunger quicker than the smell of vomit on your plate. I ate some of the boiled rice with raisins and almonds and followed it with a cup of lemon tea for dessert.

*Turmeric should be banned

We Will Get Healthy And Strong Or Die Trying Tip

If you don’t eat a balanced diet you are not going to be healthy. Think back to your childhood when you used to eat crayons. What colors were your favorite? The bright ones, right? Healthy foods are bright, just like those brightly colored crayons you chewed on when you weren’t licking the glue off your paint brush.

If you click here you can play a game to help reinforce the importance of a balanced diet.

I've also provided you with a few suggestions for some colorful additions to your diet:

Green vegetables like broccoli, spinach, and romaine help to improve eye sight and the immune system. 

Red strawberries, cherries, tomatoes, and apples improve heart and brain function.

Yellow and Orange, as in grapefruit, cantaloupe, squash, and carrots improve the immune sytem.

Blue and Purple, as in blueberries, blackberries, grapes, eggplant, and plums reduce some cancers and keep memory sharp.

Special Note:  There are no beneficial baby poop colored foods.◦


Leslie said...

Gave me flashbacks to when I got done with swimming, soccer, or whatever else makes a teenager hungry and came home to one of dad's more creative meals. Thank goodness for cereal!

Anonymous said...

But, a lot of those colored vegetables listed are the ones you just said you did not like!


Abby said...

At least Dad's meals are edible 99% of the time; that's a lot higher than when we were growing up. I especially remember the "vegetable jello".

Amber said...

Its sad you had to cut out the wine in your diet. I thought a glass a day keeps the doctor away? I have to admit, I'm glad I didn't have to try the baby poop-vomit concoction.

Art Elser said...

Well, I've been eating hospital food for the past week, so Dean's cooking doesn't sound all that bad. But the meds I've been on have made my fingers where the keys are. This short note which used to take me two minutes. But, Cathy, I needed your humor. Thanks.


Art Elser said...

Ah, Cathy,

Are you sure Dean isn't reading our posts? My sweet nurse ordered what was listed as chicken noodle soup. It smelled, looked, and tasted like your dog poo meal that Dean cooked. Did he send some down to the Parker Adventist Hospital?